I was tired.
Not of the murders, no.
But the constant travelling sure was a pain in the arse.
I was a mess, too. Had I known I'd be performing so many acts of murderous intentions (I should've guessed, really), I'd have kept some more fancy clothing with me. The gown I was in was literally bloody. Not that I minded the blood, no. I like blood, wear it as a scar upon a soldier's chest. Gives me as much pride as that. :P
No, what I didn't like was the fact that I was in a train to Paris, and the fashion capital would really judge me for not being well dressed!
Eh, well...a damsel in distress can get her way for a lot of things, can't she? ;)

Since it was one of the off-peak trains to Paris, my booth was all mine and I was glad. Being stuck in a booth with another human being might not be the best thing for my present disposition. And I was in no mood to commit another murder after the huffy affair that was Humming Jambiya. Ugh, even now as I think about him, I am filled with the strange urge to kill him again. Because let's face it: there's nothing worse than dying twice.

I closed my eyes and started to think of the wonders of a hot bath. Ah, scented candles...flowers...the feel of the warm water touching my very soul. *shivers with glee*

It was then that the door of the booth opened and entered a disturbance in the form of a woman. A very obscenely dressed woman too. I hadn't realised that the train had stopped for a bit, but judging her by her clothes, I was pretty sure that this station was Slut-stershire.

Now, I may be all feisty and the kamasutra may describe my sexual appetite as that of a she-elephant's, but I would NEVER dress in that vulgar a fashion with my breasts highlighted in the so-obvious and not classy way, and my bum protruding out in a distressing manner. I hated her as soon as I saw her and decided that not talking to her would be the key to a rage-free journey.

But she wanted it another way, bitch that she was.

"Hello, I am Swinea Birdlust", she said, her heavy French accent reminding me of why the British hate the French.
I opened my eyes slowly, trying to give her the idea that I was fatigued enough to not want to wake up till we reached Paris.
"My name is Zxy Hemendip", I said, sounding quite drugged.
"What a lovely name!" she squealed.
I know Zxy Hemendip is a lovely name. Why is she just repeating things I know?
"Thank you, Ms. Birdlust", I tried to smile; I was trying to tell her very nicely that I was FREAKING TIRED, SO LET ME SLEEP!!

"Are you travelling to Paris for business or for pleasure?" she continued.
So, I really wasn't going to get some sleep, was I?
"For pleasure, Ms. Birdlust. I have a few cousins residing at Rue Cambon", I added. There really was my cousin brother Nash Martin at Rue Cambon.
"Lovely", she squealed again. "I am travelling for...pleasurable business."
Of course she was.
"Are you?"
"Yes...I assume you can guess what my pleasurable business is?"
I wanted to say that she looked like a harlot, so maybe that was her business too.
Apparently, I did say it.
But I was so tired, I just don't remember what rubbish I must have said.
"Oh, that is correct!" she squealed again. I didn't get it. Did she enjoy that?
Oh, right, she did call it her pleasurable business.
Dayum. What a freak.

After that rather awkward conversation, she didn't speak to me; I suppose she did manage to get the hint. A few hours later, the food cart arrived and famished as I was, I bought a croque-monsieur and settled in to read my diary. No books, no periodicals; none can match the endearing accounts of Zxy Hemendip, the Duchess of Cambridge and Countess of York. ;)

"I suppose whilst you are here you will attend the grand ball of Paris?" Swinea continued, unwrapping the food item she had bought. (It is rude to spy on others' food :P)
"Oh, yes I will", I said, adding that to my diary. "ATTEND GRAND BALL. KILL SWINEA IF SHE DOESN'T STOP TALKING"
Of course, I wasn't serious about the killing. Yet.
You just never know with me, do you? :P

"They say General Gunther is to make an appearance" she added with a wink.
Now, I had no idea who this General Gunther was, but the way she put it, I just knew that I had to get to know who this General was.
So I added another note in my diary: "GENERAL GUNTHER"

"I'm sorry, but pray, who is General Gunther?" I asked politely.
"Oh, but of course, you're English! You obviously don't visit Paris much!"
Witch.
I do too visit Paris. I had so many summer trips in Paris as a child. Just hadn't been there in recent years. What a witch! -.-

I faked a laugh and waited for her to continue.

"He is only the most remarkable member of the French regiment! I had the privilege of knowing him quite intimately last summer", she added with what seemed like a wink.
Right.
So General Gunther was a bit of a man-whore.

"How nice that must have been", I said, shifting a little in my seat.
"Oui...quite nice", she wouldn't stop beaming.
Dayum. What a freak.
Shut up, already!

I wished the train would gather speed and we'd reach Paris sooner. But thankfully, before I could lose my temper, I heard Swinea lightly snoring. What a relief that was. I stood up noiselessly and with whatever little luggage I had, got the hell out of the booth. Upon opening the door of the next booth, I found a lightly snoring man (again), his hat covering his face.
The perfect companion. Neither would he talk, nor would he want me to talk. I could peacefully delve into the adventures of Zxy Hemendip and not have anything disturb me :D

So, I did settle in and dozed off. I finally woke up when the breakfast cart showed up.
"Excuse me?" I heard a sound.
Oh, what a beautiful sound that was. Reminded me of someone I had known...but who was it?
"Madame?" said the voice.
Oh, yes, I definitely knew the voice.
"Mm?" I said, breathing lightly, clutching what I perceived to be a hat.
This couldn't be right.
I opened my eyes slowly to discover my booth companion wide awake, the sun beaming and the cart-lady smiling uncomfortably. I sat up straight and looked at the lady.
"Anything off the cart, my dear?" she asked.
"Just some tea, please", I said, clearing my throat. Then I realised that I still had the man's hat in my hand (How on earth did it get there?)
I let go of it quickly as he chuckled.
"Thank you", I said to the cart-lady and watched her depart while I straightened my gown, hiding the cleavage that I had made visible during the night.
I sniffed a little, the cool morning air getting to my head.
The man opposite me seemed quite engrossed in the paper.
That was a good thing.
I took a few moments to analyse him. He seemed rather affable. His dark brown hair stood out, compared to his extremely white skin, adorned slightly red by the cool morning air. His eyes were quite an established contrast at that: the lightest shade of brown. He was well-built, too, his shoulders quite broad. His clothes suggested affluence, as did the gold pocket watch dangling from his vest.
As I emptied the contents of the tea-pot into my cup however, I could feel his gaze on me. So I looked up and he smiled.
"You aren't from Paris", he said.
"No", I shook my head. "I am the Duchess of Cambridge and the Countess of York", I wanted to add, but resisted. I know that boasting away royal titles is cool (believe me!) but ever since I escaped home, I had to exercise more caution.
"I am from York", I added.
"Ah...I knew you were English", he said, taking a bite out of his toast.
"Did you? What gave me away?"
"Well...the English beauty has its own charm. You couldn't possibly be French with that sort of charm", he added.
Ah, so my booth companion was a smooth talker.
I chuckled.
"Well, thank you. But you aren't from Paris, either, are you?" I asked him. His accent was definitely more Midland than anyone's.
"Not originally, no. Business beckons me to Paris every so often. I won't say much about that."
"As you wish", I said with a shrug.
"So, what is it that calls YOU to Paris then, my lady?"
I liked how he didn't insist on knowing my name. There is a charm in being hit on by strangers who don't mention their names, and have no interest in finding out yours :P Back in the day, it was people like my booth companion who did that. Now, it's people you find lined up outside clubs who do that :P
And more often than not, it's a relief not knowing their names. I once had an encounter outside a club in my second life. The man was handsome, all suited up. He said he'd buy me a drink and everything (and I said no, thank you, because I didn't trust him, douche that he could be). But then he mentioned his name-and I have never been this put off in my entire life. "My name is Honey", he said. 'That's a...sweet name', I said sheepishly.
Gawd. What kind of a name is Honey? Granted, he was a Punjabi man (must kill them too, they've practically transformed England into Punjabi-land), but even the worst Punjabi names were better than his. And it was his real name, not even a pet-name sort of thing.
Anyway, I was glad that we could just talk and have nothing to do with unimportant things like "what's your name?" "where do you intend to stay?" "do notify me when you reach Mr. Martin".

We finally did reach Paris and when the train came to a final halt, he smiled, shook my hand and said, "Lovely to meet you, Madame".
"Pleasure to meet you, too", I said with a smile.
I left the booth and got out of the train, turned to wave him goodbye, but he was gone.
Damn, I wanted to know his name!
Eh, well. It was France. I'd probably meet plenty of other handsome and flirtatious gentlemen.

******

"Cousin Zxy!" Nash squealed when the maid announced my entrance.
"Cousin Nash!" I squealed back while he hugged me.
Nash Martin lived in Paris for unfathomable reasons (or I couldn't be bothered to find out why). So, it was rather convenient to find a place to stay.
"Oh, it's been so very long since I saw you! How ARE you? Oh, and...I was very sorry upon hearing about the demise of your dear mother", he added solemnly.
Oh, right...Suzanne Thomas. I hadn't thought about her in a long time. :P
I sighed, pretending to actually care about her.
"oh, have I made fresh healing wounds? I do feel so sorry!"
"Oh, no, Nash! No, we must all move on...after all, the dead have moved on. Maybe it's time we did too", I added.
"oh, I always admired your courage, Zxy", he said and wrapped me in another hug.
"I hope I am not a disturbance to you, Nash? I do feel bad about dropping in without as much a letter, but I was so distressed! So much has happened..."
"I understand, Zxy. You can stay here for as long as you wish. Come", he added, wrapping me in a massive hug again. I smiled.
"Now, we must get your business sorted. You don't have any plans whilst you are here, do you?"
"My dear Nash, I had hardly planned to come to Paris! You couldn't possibly expect me to have plans for my stay", I said.
"It's settled, then. You will attend the Autumn ball. No, I won't take no for an answer", he added before I could protest.
As if I was going to protest. :P
I lived for such things!
Balls, dressing up all fancy, being hit on by random strangers: this was life to me!
So I knew for sure that this was going to be fun :D

"Oh, and one of my dear friends is in town, too, so he will attend the ball. Everyone wants to meet him. You'll get to meet him too! He is an absolute delight, Zxy; you'd love him. General Gunther from the regiment', he added.
Oh yay.
Another General Gunther fan.
Seriously, who is this guy?

A few minutes into the animated description of General Gunther's character (his happy nature, his hilarious moods, etcetera) made Nash realise that he had to get to work. He arranged for my luggage to be transferred to one of the massive guest rooms and a hot bath.
Yes, I thought. This is going to be fun :D

******

The day of the Autumn ball finally arrived and courtesy to Nash's lady friends, I had a lovely white muslin gown made for myself. Several of Nash's male friends sent over carnations for me (well, why wouldn't they? I am perfectly charming ;) ) and they contributed towards the making of my hair accessories. Now, don't judge me. I did exploit their labour for fashion, but I also danced with each one of them and gave them credit where it was due.

I was so glad that there was a society event to be part of. It seemed like ages since I had last gone out. This was a night of grace. There was no muck involved, no filthy men, no judgmental glares, none of that rubbish. This was an elegant night.

It was when the last bit of the string segment ended that my dance partner for it, Algernon Everett, left to get us some drinks. And it was then that I caught sight of one of the most unexpected sights. It was certainly someone unexpected, but not someone I had hoped to see.
"Ms. Hemendip!" squealed Swinea Birdlust.
How nice. I stay in Paris for a week and instead of a charming gentleman, God sends over Swinea Birdlust.
How amusing, God.

"Ms. Birdlust!" I said, not quite matching her level of adrenaline.
I quickly noticed what she was wearing: well, who wouldn't? The woman was draped in a partially see-through black gown. Talk about modesty in public! :/ But I suppose that was the difference in the French society. :P
After a few minutes of chit-chat, I was glad to say goodbye to her. I did see her again later that evening with Nash. :P

It was when we were in the middle of the German music segment that the hall suddenly went silent and the quartet stopped. Everyone bowed down and by way of quiet murmurs, I understood that the regiment officers had arrived. Swinea Birdlust rearranged her dress so that more of her cleavage was visible. Gawd. THAT was too much for even the French society.

And then he entered. Who? General Gunther, of course. I was...befuddled.
He walked with the poise of an army man towards his seniors and who I understood to be the most elite of the elite class. Nash approached him too, along with Swinea. With Nash, he was quite friendly. But with Swinea, I could swear I sensed a cold look.
Oh, well. So maybe the intimacy of the summer hadn't lasted.

A while later, just as the musicians began restoring their original notes, Nash approached me with the General on one side and Swinea on the other. I was...befuddled.
Why, you ask me?
Because...of all the people I could have expected to be General Gunther, I'd have hardly expected my booth companion from Lancaster to Paris to be him.
Such was the situation.

"General Gunther, I'd like to present to you, Cousin Zxy Hemendip, Duchess of Cambridge and Countess of York. Zxy, meet Gerald Gunther", he added.
"How do you do?"
"How do you do?"
"Ah, there's Mrs. Douglas", said Nash, looking into the distance at one of his prospective business associates. "Swinea, darling, join me. I hope you two enjoy", he added, looking at me and Gerald. General Gunther.
"So we meet again", said Gerald with the familiar mischievous grin.
"Indeed we do", I said, flashing away a smile too.
"It's interesting how we both managed to hide the fact that we are...important people, don't you think?"
"Quite interesting, General. But I had heard so much about "General Gunther" that it would have been a shame not to have met you."
"I am flattered", he said, raising his glass.
Just then, the string quartet started another piece and I knew what was about to happen. Men are quite predictable :P
"Would you like to dance, Ms. Hemendip?"
"Indeed", I said, and took his arm.

It was an interesting experience, too.
"i had no idea you were related to Nash Martin", he said.
"Yes, well, he is quite a distant relation. He is the son of one of the cousin sisters of my late father."
"Do you like it in Paris?"
"Yes, very much, it's a refreshing change."
"Have you ever been to Paris before?"
"Are you always this inquisitive?" I asked with a small smile.
He chuckled. "I am a curious man. Have you been to Paris before?"
"I did have countless vacations in Paris, as a child. But I haven't been here in my recent past."
"Would you like to see the city then?"
"Well, Nash hardly ever has the time for...frivolity. Besides, I have been here for just a week, so I haven't made many close friends. I would quite detest the idea of roaming around the streets of Paris all by myself."
"I beg your pardon, Ms. Hemendip, but....i was offering myself for company", he said with a smile.
I knew that, of course.
I just liked seeing the reaction of men when I pretended like I didn't know what they meant. :P
"Oh, but I wouldn't want to be a burden...wouldn't you rather spend the time with Swinea Birdlust?"
Now why the Beelzebub would I say that? :/
"With Ms. Birdlust? I doubt she'd be as perfect as you are", he said, his voice suddenly sending shivers down my spine.
You know how some people have the alcohol effect?
He had that effect!
"Oh?" I said. Whispered, almost.
"Yes", he said, his arm now hovering over my buttocks.
I swallowed.
He was quite the smooth talker. :P

I enjoyed myself thoroughly over the remainder of the night. I was so glad to be part of the social circle again, not a social pariah anymore.
I did miss all of that what with the murders I had had to commit and the escaping from one place to another. :(

******

So, the next day, Gerald arrived promptly at lunch time and took me to one of the more elegant French restaurants.
We saw the important locations of the city from the view of a tourist and as evening approached, we settled for tea at a little pastry shop, talking about everything: from German music to the language, from the Suez Canal to the Persian market.
Later, we went to one of the concert halls to appreciate fine opera and I felt so alive after an evening out. Having intelligent conversation: I missed that!
He didn't care about my past and I didn't mention Swinea again, so that was okay. At one point, we started talking about botanical gardens.
"My father was intrigued by them. He had one made in our backyard when I was a little boy", he said.
"Oh, did he? Well, I am not quite interested in them, but I do love the greenery. My governess was rather fond of botany. She'd talk for hours on end about the wonderful gardens she visited in her travels in the West Midlands. But I do so wish to see a garden once!"
"Oh, you're welcome to see mine whenever you like. In fact, would you like to see it now?"
"Right now? I'd rather not be an imposition, you've already done so much", I chuckled.
"oh, no imposition at all! Besides, I very rarely get to spend time with people like you", he added with a grin.
I didn't know why, but something seemed wrong. Something about him. Not like Gay Grey, no. Just...something wrong.
But what could possibly go wrong?
We'd just see the garden. Probably fool around for a bit. What could go wrong? Unless...he turned out to be like Gay Grey.
Oh, don't be silly, Zxy, said a voice in my head.

So, I did say yes to his offer and within ten minutes, we were in outside his home. It was designed along the lines of brick red terracotta, and looked rather dignified and grandiose.
Not to mention, pricey.
I liked that :P
"C'est tout, Helder, Merci", hé said to his butler.

"Shall we?" he said, directing me towards the backyard.
Now, I won't lie to you. Botanical gardens are beautiful. But i am not fascinated by the details. :P
I did however appreciate how much his father seemed to care. :P

"Oh, this is beautiful", I said, looking around.
"Yes, it is", Gerald sighed.
"You're staring at me", I said with a small smile. "That's quite rude."
"Mm-hmm", he said and walked towards me. "You're beautiful."
"Am I?"
"Yes. More so than anyone I have known."
At that point, he was so close to me, it seemed pointless not to kiss him when he brought down his mouth onto mine.
And what a kiss that was :O
Head spinning. Knees weakening. Inhibitions lowering.
The equivalent of getting drunk :P

I didn't even mind when he carried me inside and did unspeakable things to me :P

If only things could've stayed that way for longer than they did *sigh*